


The Introspective Thoughts of an American Werewolf

by My_Write_Life



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After 6B, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Buffy is in this universe, Derek and Stiles momentarily breakup, Scott is an idiot but he gets better, What is a timeline? Jeff doesn’t know. The writers dont know. I don’t know. So I took liberties, also fairytale and mythological creatures here too, crossovers, like so many
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:02:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26229877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Write_Life/pseuds/My_Write_Life
Summary: Peter centric. After season 6b what happened to Peter? What happened to everyone else. Peter wanders around a bit before he winds up in New York. Featuring a plethora of supernatural creatures and Derek.
Kudos: 9





	The Introspective Thoughts of an American Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to focus on Peter because I’m not very good at writing him. Thats really why I decided to start this and also my love of crossovers. 
> 
> If you’ve read The Basement there were little tiny Easter eggs there, the twilight shifters were mentioned and there was a mention of Adele Stackhouse from Trueblood too though I don’t think anyone noticed that. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy my struggles with writing Peter Hale and I hope to eventually get good enough at writing him.

October 31 2015

Peter loves New York. The air is poisoned, the streets reek of human piss and excrement, no one looks at anyone twice as they herd to wherever it is that want to be and need to be. In the world Peter was born into New York is the perfect place to lose ones self and the hunters, God, the hunters wont touch New York if they could depend on it. People die here hunters die here all the time. Once in a while a young band of hunters will come in guns a’ blazing to take out a few werewolves or whatever creepy crawly they can find and they always wind up dead. Not quick dead, not painless dead but painful dead the kind of dead where their heads are delivered overnight back to their families and their entrails are pulled out of them alive and all they can do is shit and piss and cry for mercy. Its music to the ears, the screaming. 

Peter was ten years old when his parents were murdered, as the youngest of thirteen pups in a large pack it had been the most noteworthy and terrible moment of his life. He’d loved humans before that, loved their weak little hands and feet, loved their weak little voices and their hobbies and families and how safe the pack made them in their tiny little nothing town. And then the humans came and asked for his parents and then they were dead.

Not easy dead, not fast dead but slow, an example of the Argent’s power and the power of their code. His father hadn’t meant to kill anyone but had to protect some young wolf that had asked for sanctuary ultimately paying the price for his good deed. Of course his father had been human And genuinely hunters didn’t kill humans but because he’d married and had pups with a werewolf, maybe thats why the hunters had so severely punished him. 

When its late at night and Peter can’t sleep, with the window opened he can sometimes hear, in the wind, his father still screaming in the dark, his mother’s cries as she was forced to watch, tied down with rope covered in wolfsbane, knowing that her mate would die and that she would die. She begged, she begged these hideous little creatures, these humans for mercy for her children and Talia had stood strong, didn’t cry or shout and then after a long night of horrific torture they died and Peter never loved humans again.

Now...now he’s back, really back after burning and dying and the territory is being taken care of by McCall and his lackeys. Derek and Peter should have stayed but then it wasn’t their problem anymore. The nemeton was dead, the people in town know what they are and some are thankful, some are purposefully oblivious but most of them are biding their time, sharpening their pitchforks and waiting to light their torches.

Derek had cultivated a life in Georgia that had been destroyed and had decided to go back to tie up lose ends before he had to go into hiding again and Peter had simply left. He’d warned Malia to run away from that place but his daughter was still such a child and dependent and now dependent of her precious little Scott until her fancies would inevitably run dry and she looked elsewhere. She would be dead before it was too late just like all the rest and Peter didn’t care.

Why should he? The girl wanted to live her life from one man to the next and he can’t think of who she got that from because no woman had ever been so blinded by their men not in his family. She must have gotten that from her mother what a pity.

So he moved on.

He sees the vampires in the alleyways, the werewolves in their bars and the demons in the subways and bellow when he ventures into the tunnels, he sees the scurry of rats and smells the decomposing bodies that wont be found by the authorities until it was too late to determine a cause of death. There are things living in the water that take the form and shape of what any human loves and wants and then it pulls them down and drowns them, sometimes eats them but mostly its for play. He teases the business card in his pocket, Wolfram & Hart, plucks it out and tears it in half. He’s not keen on selling his soul for any kind of swanky position he does all right on his own.

* * *

“You like the fire,” He says and the woman standing at his window looks out into the cluttered and filthy streets, the moonlight illuminates her body. Her scars are thick and hideous on her body but precious, the marks of a warrior who has seen so much and when he looks into her brown hooded eyes he sees more war and death in them. If he had the sight he might actually see the blood on her hands that has yet to run dry and when his tongue touches her skin he can almost taste the ash on her. “Theres so many of you out there you can stop.”

”I don’t think so.”

”Why not?” He leans back, arms behind his head and he smiles, lazily. “You can meet a nice man and start a family. Get a job.”

”A crappy nine to five and smelly diapers to change? No thankS.” He sees her grin reflected on the glass. “Born, fight and die. It ain’t ever changing.”

”A slayer motto.” He says. “What a sad life.”

”You think so? I think its fun. Live every day like its your last, thats my motto.” She says and then he watches her get dressed and walk right out his door. “Next time I’m in town.” She says.

”I’ll be waiting.” He says.

He’d met this slayer a year ago. It had been right after he’d left Beacon Hills and had nowhere to go. He was wondrously wealthy but he had nothing, he wasn’t an omega but he wasn’t a beta with pack. Coming back from the dead had made Peter wrong and Derek had come back just as wrong. They were, perhaps though he isn’t so pigheaded in assuming that he and Derek were the only ones out there, wolves who did not require pack. Lone wolves.

That wasn’t something that happened in nature at least not their nature but here they were, Derek and Peter all alone and never driven mad by it.

He’d gone to what was left of Sunnydale to stare at the giant crater that had been the hellmouth and then he’d left California all together. He’d been studious in all things that mattered in his world, magic and demons, vampires and dimensions too vast in number that they could never be counted. Slayers had always had been interesting. They were human, the things in the world that he hated most and they were supernatural, creatures of his own kind and they were wrong.

Just like Peter was now.

So he went on, searching for her and then months into his search for the slayer he heard rumors of more and the more he heard about the magic and the slayer becoming legion his interest was peeked at it’s highest and then...

...then he’d met Faith.

It takes a murderer to know a murderer, he sees killer when their eyes meet in a seedy pub he can’t remember the name of, he can smell the blood and sweat and death that hangs all around her and he yearns for it because you can recover and you can stop but once you get into the habit of killing its hard to stop the itch especially when you have to often flee for your life or you’re trying to save a pathetic town or just anyone and you have to hold back the urge-it feels too good. Too good.

* * *

“I don’t understand why they fight.” 

Derek rolls his eyes and sips his beer, the light is low the bar is disgusting and the demons and vampires are loud. 

They love it.

”What do you mean?” He asks. “Its their job.”

”But theres so many of them why bother.”

”Not everyone is like you not everyone can walk away.”

”Oh dear nephew, not everyone is like _us._ ” Peter corrects and Derek doesn’t deny it, he just grins into his filthy mug.

”Maybe.” He says.

”How are the others I worry for them so.” Peter exaggerates and Derek pulls out his phone to check his messages, just to check.

”Well, there was an issue with some of the parents at the highschool, they don’t want a werewolf coaching their kids, the younger betas were nearly run down on the road on their way home from school by the bus driver and Melisa McCall has been let go from work.”

”Pity.”

”I told Scott to get out of there. I told him.”

”And yet.” Peter says. “The idiot stayed and why? Because you made the suggestion. He still hates you.”

”No he doesn’t.”

”Yes, dear nephew he does. You are allys, you fight together when he needs you a perfect and brainless little soldier. He still acts like he’s human and so he thinks that he’s better and that you’re nothing but shit beneath his shoes because you were born differently. I wonder how he rationalizes what he is, oh wait, its the narcissism I suppose. He ignores everything the bite gave him does he really think he’d be _anything_ right now if not for it. What a pitiful idiot.”

”I wont disagree.”

”Good.” Peter orders another drink and then gives Derek a look. “And Stiles, how is he?”

”I wouldn’t know.”

”What do you mean?”

”He wants to be loyal to Scott so Stiles isn’t exactly forthcoming right now.”

”So its done between you, then. It’s over?”

”I guess so.” Derek broods as the song on the ancient jukebox changes to a sad little duwop, the Skyliners melodically belting. “He wanted to go back to protect Scott and I wanted to stay away.”

”So he chose Scott.”

”Scott’s his brother.”

And here Peter thought that Stiles was the smart one.”


End file.
